As the year winds down, a familiar ritual unfolds: days grow short, online shopping anxiety peaks, and the internet erupts over the annual deluge of “Best of the Year” lists. From film and music to books and television, these rankings promise a curated distillation of cultural excellence. Yet, more often than not, they deliver controversy, confusion, and a profound sense of personal betrayal when a beloved favorite is snubbed. The recent uproar over Rolling Stone’s movie list omitting a major hit is just the latest skirmish in a perennial war. But what if the real value of these lists isn’t in their definitive rankings, but in understanding the flawed, human machinery that creates them?
Let’s dissect the anatomy of a list controversy. When Rolling Stone critic David Fear published his 20 Best Movies of 2025, the exclusion of Ryan Coogler’s critically and commercially successful “Sinners” ($367 million globally, 97% on Rotten Tomatoes) was perceived not as a mere difference of opinion, but as a critical failure. This reaction highlights a core tension: audiences often seek validation of mainstream success, while critics, as tastemakers, may feel compelled to champion under-the-radar or artistically daring work to maintain credibility. The list becomes a battleground between populist appeal and curatorial authority.
This isn’t an isolated incident. Consider Pitchfork’s 100 Best Rap Albums of All Time, which placed the mixtape “Rich Gang: Tha Tour Pt. 1” above undisputed classics like Wu-Tang Clan’s “Enter the 36 Chambers.” Such a ranking isn’t just provocative; it reveals a specific, often generational, lens through which history is filtered. It forces a conversation about canon, legacy, and whether influence and timelessness outweigh moment-specific cultural impact. The ensuing debate is arguably more valuable than the list itself.
To navigate this landscape intelligently, we must recognize the inherent biases and structural forces that shape every “Best Of” list:
1. The Critic’s Dilemma: The Curator vs. The Crowd. The perception of the critic as an infallible arbiter is a myth. Critics operate within a professional ecosystem that often rewards esoteric knowledge and the discovery of the “next big thing” over endorsing established blockbusters. This can create a subconscious bias against mainstream success, framing popularity as the antithesis of quality. The result can be lists that feel deliberately contrarian, prioritizing obscure art-house films or niche indie albums to assert critical independence. The question becomes: is the list reflecting genuine merit, or is it performing an identity for a specific readership?
2. The Generational Chasm. Age is one of the most powerful, yet least discussed, filters in criticism. A list of the greatest hip-hop albums compiled by Gen Z staffers who were unborn during the genre’s golden age will inherently value different qualities—viral moments, streaming-era cohesion, production trends—than one made by Gen Xers who experienced that era’s cultural earthquake firsthand. Conversely, older critics can suffer from nostalgia blindness, dismissing evolution and declaring the art form “dead” past their own peak engagement. A quality list should either transparently account for this bias or, better yet, synthesize multiple generational perspectives.
3. The Limits of Expertise. True expertise is deep but narrow. A film critic is not necessarily a qualified music historian, and vice versa. When publications task generalists or critics from one field with ranking another, the lists can feel unmoored from the genre’s history, technical nuances, and community consensus. They may overvalue accessibility or novelty while missing foundational mastery. It’s the difference between a food lover ranking the world’s best restaurants and a Michelin-trained chef doing the same; both have value, but only one is an expert assessment.
4. The Invisible Hand of Commerce. While outright “pay-for-play” is (hopefully) rare, softer corporate and relationship influences are real. Strategic partnerships between media conglomerates, advertising relationships, and the social capital of industry friendships can subtly sway placements. The infamous era of The Source magazine under Benzino, where blatant conflicts of interest corrupted album ratings, serves as a stark cautionary tale. A wildly anomalous ranking should prompt a healthy skepticism about what interests, beyond pure artistic judgment, might be at play.
How to Read a “Best Of” List Like a Pro: Don’t treat these lists as gospel or get enraged by them. Use them as a tool.
- Seek the Aggregate, Not the Singular: One list is a opinion; ten lists reveal trends. Cross-reference multiple sources to see which works consistently resonate across different critical pools.
- Value the Methodology: A list compiled by a single critic is a personal diary. A list like The Root’s, which polls a diverse staff across age and expertise, is a survey. The latter is inherently more robust and less prone to individual blind spots.
- Mine for Discovery, Not Validation: Your favorite film doesn’t need a list’s approval. Instead, scan for intriguing titles you haven’t heard of. A list’s greatest gift can be a compelling recommendation you’d otherwise miss.
- Follow the Specialist, Not the Generalist: For deep genre insights, seek out lists from dedicated niche authorities (e.g., Brian “B-Dot” Miller’s annual hip-hop rankings) rather than broad-interest magazines. Their criteria are often more nuanced.
In the end, the fury directed at David Fear or any list-maker is misplaced. These lists are not objective report cards; they are conversation starters, cultural snapshots, and flawed but fascinating artifacts of taste. By understanding the biases, incentives, and human elements behind them, we can disarm our outrage and engage with them as informed consumers. We can appreciate the debate, discover something new, and confidently love what we love—list placement be damned.
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